


the story can resume

by seemeeimbeebee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Henry's the narrator but it is a CS story, Inspired by Atonement, Slow Burn, Tags to be added as I go along, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26662720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seemeeimbeebee/pseuds/seemeeimbeebee
Summary: "The story can resume. ... I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.”An unfortunate misunderstanding caused by secrets and naivety forces a young couple to be torn from each other far too soon. It's up to Henry Nolan to put the clues together and right the wrong he has caused his sister and the man she loves most.Inspired by the book/film Atonement for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31
Collections: Captain Swan Movie Marathon





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's my turn to post for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon. This is inspired by the book/film Atonement and also just me wanting to see Jen in that green dress. If you've seen the movie, you know the one. I put this in the tags on Ao3, but Henry will be a narrator for most of the events in this story, but this is at its core a Captain Swan story. There will be exactly one chapter with smut and I'll let you know where that is when it gets posted.
> 
> If you know how Atonement ends and you're wondering if this is going to end differently for our lovers the answer is...well I'm not going to give you the answer in the first chapter now am I? You'll have to keep reading to find out. 
> 
> Special thanks to kmomof4, hollyethecurious, teamhook and all of the CSMM discord group for keeping me motivated, and to jarienn972 for being a wonderful beta!!

It was the loud argument down the hall that woke Henry up. Over the past year, it’d been so quiet that he’d often slept in much to the chagrin of his parents. But today, loud and angry voices seemed to carry themselves down the hall. 

Peeking his head out into the hallway, he could see his father standing in front of his sister’s room.

“Emma, really,” Leopold Nolan, his father, huffed as he looked down at something in his hands.

In spite of himself, Henry couldn’t help but grin. If his father was yelling at his sister, it meant Henry’s older sister, Emma, was home to be yelled at. 

“A third? I spent all that money for you to go away and you earn yourself a third? You could’ve become a secretary and made it all so much easier on us.” 

_ So he must be looking at Emma’s marks.  _

“I’m sorry, was Oxford supposed to be easy?” his sister, Emma, snapped. As Henry crept closer to his sister’s room, she was brushing her hair as she looked in the mirror. 

Henry only had two older siblings: his older sister and their eldest brother, David. Emma had been away at school for the past year and Henry had missed her fiercely. In the letters she wrote him, she’d made it more than clear that she hated school and would much prefer being at home with him.

“You try sitting in a classroom with a bunch of men--including the professor--who don’t think you deserve to be there and then you see if you can get higher than a third, Father.”

He had to put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Henry liked it better when Emma was home too. She was his closest friend, his confidant, and he had no secrets with her, despite being ten years her junior. When he was younger, she would make up games and scavenger hunts for him to do during the day. She had been the one to teach him to read and write, and he wrote stories about their adventures.

It was the thing that had turned him on to writing, and he wanted to make her proud by writing a book one day.

“And I’m sure you spent all your time studying, Emma,” her father said wryly. “You do nothing but laze about when you’re here, so I’m sure you brought that same attitude with you to Oxford.” 

“I have the degree, don’t I?” Emma responded cheekily, dabbing some blush on her cheeks. “You don’t need me to be smart. You just need me to be pretty. You’ve told me that plenty of times.”

“Well we thought sending you to university would land you a husband, but clearly you failed in that regard as well!” 

Emma turned to face him, her face twisted in anger, but then it relaxed upon seeing Henry. She opened her arms to him and he rushed forward into them eagerly.

“You’re back!” Henry cried happily, tightening his arms around her.

“Yes, Killian and I got back last night,” Emma hummed, holding him close to her.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Henry demanded, pulling back a little.

“I tried, you wouldn’t stir,” Emma laughed, tapping his nose. Henry rolled his eyes and tried to wriggle away now. He was thirteen, and he was far too grown up for such things, even if he’d missed his sister terribly when she was away at university. 

“Where’s Killian?” Henry asked eagerly.

“With Liam, I’m sure,” Emma promised, smiling up at him. “You should congratulate him. He’s gotten a first.”

“I should hope so with all the money I’ve put into that boy,” Leopold grumbled.

“You should be more pleased. Now you can show him off as your biggest triumph and your biggest example of philanthropy,” Emma said icily to her father. Her green eyes flashed with something Henry didn’t quite understand, and he thought that maybe Emma was angry with Killian for how well he’d done. 

Their eldest brother, David, had gotten a first at Oxford and was a great success in the business world. Since then, their father had expected all of his children to be the same. Even though she never said it out loud or even would write it down, Henry knew that their father’s scornful words hurt Emma. He hugged her a little tighter, which earned a scoffing noise from their father. She was smart about other things that their father could never understand, and Henry hoped that she knew that. 

“You’re nearly a man, Henry. There’s no need for that.”

“He hasn’t seen me since my last holiday, you can give him a break,” Emma answered, her green eyes still blazing. 

Henry pulled back, biting his lip as he looked in between his father and his sister. 

Emma sighed, folding her hands in her lap. Keeping her tone light, she added, “Go on. Go find Killian. I’m sure you have a lot to tell him about school, and he practically lived in the library so he probably has a lot to tell you too!” 

“And tell Liam he’s to pick David and his friends up from the train at quarter past 11!” his father barked. “He can take the car and if there’s so much as a scratch on it, he won’t get paid for two weeks!”   
  
“Can I go with him?” Henry asked excitedly.

“Henry, there won’t be room, don’t be a nuisance,” their father scolded. “David’s bringing his fiancée and some friends.” Turning away, he muttered, “Maybe one of them will be actually invested in marrying Emma.”

It was only when Leopold was out of sight and sound that Emma’s rigid posture loosened and she buried her face in her hands for a moment. “I’m all right,” she mumbled when Henry hugged her again. “Just tired.” Still, she leaned her head against Henry’s for a moment. “It’s so good to see you, Henry. I missed you when I was at school, little brother.”

“I missed you too,” Henry mumbled, childishly cuddling into her for a moment. “And that’s younger brother to you.” 

She smiled for a moment at the familiarity of the exchange, before she grimaced again. Their father’s presence still hung heavy in the room even though he was long gone. “Was he all right?” Emma asked, her eyes flickering to the doorway where their father had just been standing. “While I was away?”

“He mostly left me alone, occasionally would come in and do his whole thing if I got a bad mark,” Henry said with a shrug. Emma looked up at him worriedly and he tried to soothe her, “It was fine really. The tutors are working on it, and I am improving. I can handle him yelling at me. Although when he threatened to burn my manuscript...that was the worst.”

“He did what?” Emma demanded, standing up abruptly and rushing to the door as if to follow their father. 

“He didn’t actually burn it!” Henry assured her quickly, running to her side. He neglected to tell his sister that their father had held the manuscript over the open flame and that the back cover was singed. “He said that fairy stories were going to rot my brain, and that he wouldn’t stand having a sissy for a son.” Emma’s jaw clenched and the fire in her eyes returned as she glowered down the hallway where their father had last been. 

Henry felt himself getting more and more upset as he watched her. He was supposed to be a man, yet he couldn’t even stand up to his father, and Emma seemed more than willing to fight his battles for him. He didn’t want that either! He looked down, trying to hide the tears prickling in his eyes.

“Henry,” Emma said gently, kneeling before her brother. She put her hand on his shoulder gently. “Father doesn’t understand that you have a wonderful gift in both your imagination and writing. We need more people like you in the world who create rather than destroy.” He sniffled and she gently rubbed his shoulder. “What made him give it back?”

“It’s a wedding present,” Henry sniffled. “For David and Mary Margaret. I wanted to have it finished before the wedding.”

Emma smiled tenderly. “And I’m sure they’ll love it,” she murmured encouragingly. “Maybe you could read an excerpt at dinner? Once Father sees it’s for David and David loves it, I’m sure he’ll leave well enough alone.” Henry’s body shuddered, even as Emma gently wiped his tears away with her thumb. 

“And what if he hates it and he takes it away and burns it?” Henry mumbled softly, taking in a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. “I always get so nervous in front of Father and I feel like my tongue is stuffed in my mouth and--” 

He stopped as Emma placed something in his hand. “A mint?” he asked curiously, rolling the plastic wrap against his fingers. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Keep it in your pocket,” Emma told him, gently tapping his nose. “When you get nervous, start playing with the mint. Focus on the mint and nothing else, and then there won’t be any room for you to be nervous. It’s a trick that one of my tutors gave me at uni, and now I’m passing it on to you.” 

Henry beamed at her and she kissed his forehead. “Now, go off and see Killian,” Emma encouraged. “He really has missed you.” 

Henry wrapped his arms around his sister one more time. Emma cradled him close for a moment, kissing the top of his head. With a soft smile, she let him go and gently shooed him out of her room. 

The hustle and bustle of the house was a familiar melody to Henry, though everything seemed intensified, not only by the arrival of David and his friends, but--as Henry heard as he maneuvered through the halls--the quite unexpected arrival of his cousins, Ava, Nicholas and Jack were adding more chaos to the day, given Emma and Killian’s arrival the night before, and David’s arrival within the hour. 

“--well yes of course they’re getting a divorce. Shameful really.”

“I heard he was caught in flagrante with another man. She should’ve been a better wife and then they wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Hush, don’t let Master Henry hear you!”   
  
“Oh please... He wouldn’t know what that means even if he had heard me.”

The conversation all but floated around his ears, even if he didn’t quite understand what exactly the servants were talking about as he tidied up the guest room. Not that it mattered much when his main purpose was finding Liam. 

Liam was head groundskeeper of the Nolan estate, and Killian’s older brother. And if Henry could find Liam, he’d easily find Killian. Their father had taken in Liam and Killian when the two were just boys.

Well, actually, it was really Emma who’d convinced her father to take in the two Jones Brothers. Killian had tried to steal Emma’s coat when she was walking home from school, but she had promptly knocked Killian flat on his back. And maybe broke his nose while she was at it. They’d only been eight at the time. 

She’d escorted him to the hospital and when it came up that Killian’s only guardian was Liam, who was thirteen at the time, Emma wouldn’t hear of the two brothers going back home. She all but insisted that they stay with the Nolans. Leopold had been absolutely furious with Emma at first, but both boys had proven themselves to be smart and hardworking, and Leopold relented. 

David and Liam were quite close given that they were the same age, though David and Liam were not nearly as close as Emma and Killian were. Liam had always strictly adhered to the social status between them. The Jones were never fully adopted by Leopold, there were certainly expectations of blood purity for the Nolans that needed to be upheld, or at least that’s what Henry’s father always said when he asked.

Still, the boys got to live at the Nolan house, and Leopold had covered both Killian and Liam’s university tuitions. Liam was simply biding his time as head groundskeeper until Leopold had room to take him on at the firm. 

Emma and Killian, on the other hand, had been inseparable ever since that fateful day. Things like chores and expectations had often kept them apart physically during their days, but the two were in sync and often not found to be too far from each other. If Killian was working in the garden, it was not unexpected to find Emma reading there. If Emma was riding her horse, Killian was working on the paddock fence.

_ It must be nice to have a best friend like that, _ Henry thought with a sigh. He’d often yearned for a secret Jones sibling his own age would pop up out of nowhere when he was younger. Liam and Killian treated him like their younger brother, which Henry supposed was enough, but he often felt lonely seeing David and Liam and Emma and Killian hang out together. There was simply no one his age at the home, and all young people hit a certain point in their lives where they do not want a child toddling around after them. 

Ava and Nicholas were his age, but they were bossy and decidedly not very much fun at all. They often bossed him around or bullied him when they came over and whenever he complained to his mother, she told him that they were just having a hard time.  
  
His father’s advice was to man up.

And so Killian had taught him a good left punch and a right hand uppercut which mostly left the matter lie, at least where Nicholas was concerned. As much as he wanted to, he could not uppercut his cousin Ava. 

The memory of boxing lessons with Killian had Henry in a good mood, though he was starting to wonder if Killian hadn’t even woken up yet. He’d turned the corner heading toward the servant’s kitchen, when he heard Liam’s voice.

“Killian, you promise nothing happened?” 

“Bloody hell, Liam. Of course nothing happened. I’m just tired. It was a long ride home.”

“You just don’t seem excited to be home, that’s all.” There was a pause, followed by a soft clink of a mug. “You’d tell me if something happened, wouldn’t you, little brother?” 

“Of course. And that’s younger brother to you, Liam.” Henry was sure that Killian was more than used to Liam’s fussing and motherhenning since Liam had never shirked in his duty as Killian’s guardian, even when they moved into the Nolan residence. 

“Smothering” was what Emma called it. 

Though there was an affectionate note to Killian’s voice that would’ve been in place of his usual exasperation. Killian hated being called the little brother in his youth, something Henry had copied out of admiration for Killian. 

Emma had once called it adorable and Henry did not speak to her for a whole day because he was  _ not _ adorable, thank you very much. Though not talking to Emma for that day had been very painful for him because Emma was his favorite person in the house. 

Most of the time. 

Henry crept closer to the kitchen door to try and get a better listen to the brothers’ conversation, but Killian caught his eye and smirked into his cup of tea. “Lad, you know what pirates do to eavesdroppers, don’t you?” 

Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m not a child anymore, Killian,” he replied. “You can’t threaten to throw me into the brig anymore. That doesn’t work.” Still, he was grinning from ear to ear. “Welcome home, Killian. I missed you.” 

“Aye, so it seems you’ve grown indeed, lad. I swear you’ve grown a foot since Christmas,” Killian chuckled, pushing some of his breakfast toward Henry. “Go on, you can finish that. Knowing you, you stayed up writing and missed breakfast.”

“Has the family taken breakfast yet?” Henry asked, almost immediately digging into the food. “I only woke up because Father was yelling at Emma about her marks.”

“We haven’t been home a full day yet and he’s already laying into her about her marks?” Killian asked, getting up halfway out of his chair. Liam cleared his throat pointedly and Killian slowly sat back down into the chair. 

“Well go on, you can’t announce the event and not give us any of the juicy details,” Liam goaded Henry, glancing at Killian briefly. “You know the best way to get ourselves extra sweets is to come into the kitchen with a little bit of gossip. We’ll split the bounty three ways,” he murmured conspiratorially. 

“Well it wasn’t anything new in terms of what he tells us when we don’t perform the way he wants us to. That we’re lazy or that we’re failures. I don’t know why you all would find that interesting, you’ve heard him say it to each of us at least once a day,” Henry replied nonchalantly, reaching for a napkin to clean up after himself. “Oh, except for that he only paid for her to get her degree so that she could go find a husband.” 

Killian’s hand tightened around the handle of his cup of tea and his jaw clenched, his eyes flashing for the briefest of moments. His eyes darted to the doro and they lingered there before he gave his head a quiet shake. Henry happily kept on eating, glad to be moving past it as Killian seemed to be thinking something over. 

The storm behind Killian’s eyes seemed to break as he turned to the young boy. “So tell me, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. What’s your latest work about?” he teased Henry, who only rolled his eyes goodnaturedly at the jibe. 

“You know, Killian, it would be a much better nickname if I actually wrote any mysteries,” Henry replied. 

“And if he hadn’t died within the last few years,” Liam replied, clearing the plates away.

“What? Too soon?” Killian joked. Seriously, he turned to Henry and added, “You know, Doyle hated the Sherlock Holmes works but they were his most popular ones. He wrote plenty of historical works as well.”

“Well, my work is not a mystery or historical,” Henry protested. “So your nickname still doesn’t work.”

“I swear, you must be taking arguing lessons from Emma,” Killian chuckled fondly into his tea. Henry thought that was a very odd thing for him to say, only to be distracted when Liam produced three berry crumbles for the three of them to share.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll definitely update in October," I said to myself two months ago. I tried to write but I admittedly struggled a little bit with writing this chapter. Hoping you'll enjoy this chapter! Also, I thought Henry was going to bet he sole narrator and then the muse decided otherwise. Hoping you’ll enjoy Emma and Killian’s perspective too!

“And he burnt the manuscript?” Killian asked angrily, digging another hole in the ground for the new shrubbery.

“He tried to,” Emma sighed from where she was lounging on the grass. “Apparently it was rescued from the fire with only a singed back cover and enough emotional scars to almost keep Henry from writing ever again.” She closed her eyes, tilting her face toward the sun. “Was it a mistake for me to leave, Killian?”

Her voice trembled and it stopped him in his tracks. 

“I...I can handle it when father gets like that. It’s been this way for ages, and he’s never  _ understood _ Henry. I should’ve stayed here to protect him.” She slung her arm over her face to stop him from seeing her tears. He could tell by the way her chest hitched a little bit. “At the very least, by now they would’ve married me off and I could do something they’d actually be proud of.” 

“ _ Emma _ ,” Killian murmured, putting the shovel down. He furtively glanced around to make sure no one was watching him before he sat beside her. “Emma, love. You would’ve hated being stuck here. As awful as those gits were to you, I know how much you relished using your mind the last four years. You’re brilliant in so many other ways that your father is an arsehole for being unable to appreciate. There’s no point in sacrificing your happiness for everyone else’s. You deserve to be just as happy as any of them.” 

He reached out to touch her and then thought better of himself.

Killian glanced around again to make sure that Emma was the only one who had heard him. If he was to be honest, he had gotten quite used to the freedom that had come with being at Oxford. No one scrutinized their every movement, he could speak his mind to Emma, and she could speak hers in turn. If anything, their time away from the manor had solidified their ironclad friendship.    
  
When they were taking the train home, Emma curled into his side as she slept, the nightfall cloaking everything that they had wanted to hide from each other, everything they’d wanted to ignore. But daylight had thrown everything into a sharp relief. 

Their stations, and Emma’s family, would never accept him as being more than the servant boy that they found on the street. Which would’ve been perfectly fine, if Killian had not been ardently and devotedly in love with Emma. He had no idea if she returned his feelings, but he fancied himself the keeper and protector of her heart. 

(He had other feelings toward Emma that he would only act upon when he was alone, as he pictured the hollow of her throat, her hair tossed back and what she would feel like around him.)

He would just have to simply resume the task in secret. If anything, it made him feel like her knight, championing himself for her, promising himself in all things to keep her heart safe.   
  
He was quite sure Emma would break his nose again if he ever verbalized his feelings, either sort of his feelings. She was a tough lass and she certainly didn’t need to be rescued. An incident in a bar at Oxford involving one Neal Cassidy and a broken foot certainly proved that to all and sundry that Emma Nolan was not to be trifled with. 

But Killian did not mind building his best friend back up when she felt knocked down. She was fierce and brilliant, but it did not change that she needed to be reminded of this when the world knocked just a little too harshly. 

“I’m supposed to be picking flowers,” Emma muttered, finally drawing her arm away from her face. Her eyes were dry, if a little red. “David’s coming home today. For a visit. Did you know?”

“Aye, I’d heard,” Killian murmured. “A very reliable author informed me.” Warmth and amusement flooded his tone and Emma chuckled softly in spite of herself. “He’s bringing the fiancee. Mary something.”

“Mary Margaret. And two friends: Walsh Ozman and Graham Hubert,” Emma sighed, her green eyes flickering up to him. In the sunlight, he could see the golden flecks that were found in both Henry and David’s eyes, but they made her eyes look all the more striking. “Apparently they’re both extremely eligible bachelors.” Her voice hardened and her eyes narrowed. 

“Well, you can always break their noses and send them running,” Killian said serenely, standing up and getting ready to return to the yard work. 

Emma rolled onto her side and looked up at him, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “It didn’t scare you away,” she reminded him softly.

“And it never will,” he promised, heading over to the wheelbarrow and shovel again. 

Emma’s hand reached for him as if to call him back and then she seemed to think better of herself, her fingers neatly folding in on themselves. “Thank you,” she murmured softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Killian.” She came up beside him for a moment and rested her chin on his shoulder, her arms ensnaring his waist. 

He tilted his head slightly so he could look at her over his shoulder. “You’ll never have to find out,” he promised softly, his lips so close to hers that it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility to just turn around and kiss her. 

For a moment they shared a breath, simply looking at each other. His eyes searched hers, desperate for some sign that he could do what he’d wanted to do for the last four years. Her gaze never broke from his, and he could’ve lost himself in the green of her eyes forever. She leaned in a little closer until a yell from the house distracted them both. 

Emma pulled away abruptly, her breath rattled. Though he had not kissed her, he felt like his lips were buzzing with the anticipation of the act. “I need to go get the flowers,” she rasped, immediately turning on her heel and all but fleeing back into the house. 

“Emma!” Killian called after her, racing to try and grab her hand, to get her to explain, to get her to tell him what the hell that just was. 

But the honking down the lane signified the return of Liam with the car and the arrival of David and their guests. 

And then one car became two, signaling the arrival of Emma’s cousins and Killian sighed. It was going to be a very long day.

\--

“But I don’t want to act out your stupid old story!” Jack protested, folding his arms over his chest. “This is horrifically boring! Hardly any violence in it at all!”   
  
“I agree, I want there to be some action! I think it’d be rather exciting for Leon to be stabbed at the end and I am an excellent stabber!” Nick added excitedly.

“And I am very excellent at falling over and pretending to be dead!” Jack exclaimed. He leapt to his feet and Nick pretended to stab him. Jack held onto his chest and staggered before falling over, pretending to be dead. “See, Henry?” the boy asked, his voice muffled by the floor. 

“No one is getting stabbed!” Henry protested hotly, crossing his arms. If he had known that casting his cousins in the reading of the story was going to be such an arduous task, he wouldn’t have done it at all. They were every bit as opinionated and bossy as they ever were, and any sympathy Henry had for their plight was long gone in the wake of their atrocious behavior. “If you want a part with stabbing then you can write your own story.”

“Let’s go swimming!” Jack cried, springing up from the ground. “It’s too hot and I don’t want to write or read any sort of story! It’s summer and I shan’t do any school work while I’m here!”

“It’s not school work,” Henry short back.

“No school! No school!” Nicholas chanted.

“Let’s go for a swim!” Jack cried.

“But then we won’t be prepared for--” Henry started, but the uproar of the twins drowned out his protest as the two bolted out of the rooms, racing to see which one could find their swimsuit the fastest and which one could do the biggest cannonball off the docks. 

“Just a half an hour break, Henry.” His cousin, Ava, had only sat back during the whole exchange with a little smirk on her face. Even when she spoke, there was still a condescending edge to her tone that had Henry crossing his arms. “I’m sure you can manage that for your guests, can’t you? It’s what Uncle Leopold would want.” 

Henry’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, go take your swim,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “I’ll just be up here waiting when you guys get back.”

“Will you rewrite Arabella’s last scene so that she faints?” Ava asked, tapping her cheek. “I’m a wonderful fainter. My drama teacher at school says so.” Henry just nodded mutely. “Good boy,” she said snidely before flouncing out of the room. 

WIth a sigh, Henry sat back down at his desk, pressing his forehead to the wood. There was a moment where he briefly considered tearing up the whole thing and letting his cousins off the hook. But he was sure that it would come back to haunt him someway.

No doubt Ava would complain that Henry wasn’t being courteous to the guests and had destroyed the book because it wasn’t going his way. And then Henry would get a long lecture which certainly would feature the phrase “man up” several times over.

Besides, as much as he wanted to, he was sure ripping up his manuscript would only prove his father right and greatly disappoint Emma. He was more afraid of the latter in that regard that the former and so he set it aside. 

Still, there was nothing that said he couldn’t write a revenge story about his cousins very quickly. That he could shred up so that it would never see the light of day, and it would make him feel more amiable toward his cousins upon their return from their swim.

After quickly adding in a line at the end to indicate that Arabella would faint, Henry began work on his project to let out his frustrations. In this story, he was much braver, all but shouting at his cousins. In this story, his voice roared like a lion when he took back his manuscript from his father and his father kowtowed to his interests. And maybe in this story, he was just a little bit better at math.  
  
There was nothing quite like getting lost in a story, as the world around him seemed to fade away. His bedroom no longer seemed to exist, but instead a world of evil queens, werewolves and monsters. He was quite entranced in his plot when a shout drew him away from his writing.   
  
Going to the window, he saw Emma and Killian standing by the fountain. Their father’s favorite vase was beside Emma, full of flowers. Henry was too far away to hear exactly what they were saying but he could hear Killian’s voice shouting at Emma. His sister stood stock still before she brusquely began shimmying out of her dress leaving her only in her chemise.   
  
Henry ducked away from the window, his heart pounding against his chest. What had he just seen?

Had Killian told her to do that?

\--

Emma, after leaving Killian in the garden, had walked back into the house to get the vase. Her cheeks burned with how close she and Killian had been, though she tried to convince herself that it was just because it was hot outside.

She only had a moment’s notice to pull herself together as the twins came barrelling down the hall.

“I can jump farther than you!”   
  
“Well I can swim faster than you!”   
  
“Goodness, what’s all this about?” Emma laughed, watching Jack and Nicholas chase each other around the table. 

“Can we go for a swim, Emma, please?” they pleaded in unison, still chasing each other in a circle.

“Yes, of course you can go for a swim!” Emma laughed. “Go on! Race to see who can get there faster!” The boys giggled and went tumbling out of the house, shoving each other as they went. She smiled fondly for a moment before she went back to find the vase.

She picked her father’s favorite vase, knowing that he would want to show it off proudly on the table, and at least if she’d picked the right vase it would be a small recompense for whatever damage she was liable to do later on in the evening. 

Closing her eyes and counting to three, she took in a few deep breaths still trying to will the heat in her cheeks away.

“Why are you so flushed, cousin?” Ava asked suspiciously from the door. 

Emma’s eyes flew open. “Because it’s the hottest it’s been all summer,” she replied. “And I’ve just been in the garden.”

“With Killian, I’m sure.” Her cousin responded, then took a considerable pause before adding, “I’m sure your father would be very interested in hearing about that.” 

Emma did  _ not _ appreciate the tone that her cousin was taking. She stepped closer to Ava, just to remind the other girl she was a little taller and a little older. 

“A reminder to you that this is my house, and I am to go where I please,” Emma replied firmly. “And if Killian happens to be working while I’m lounging in the garden, then there’s nothing wrong with that. If anything, I’m sure my father would love to hear how committed Killian is to the upkeep of the estate.” 

She brushed past Ava before turning around and adding, “It would do you well,  _ cousin _ , to be more gracious to your hosts. You may be a guest, but don’t think I don’t know about the money that’s gone into keeping your family’s indiscretions quiet.” 

“Are you threatening me?” Ava demanded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Emma replied with a thin smile. “I’m just reminding you that you could certainly practice a little more gratitude. After all, your reputation hangs quite precariously and if you fall out of my father’s favor, then you might actually have to work for a living, cousin.” She tilted her head and added, “Perhaps Killian might be able to teach you about gardening. He’s quite good at it.”

She began to walk away, but Ava was determined to have the last word. “At least I’m not a good-for-nothing like you!” Ava shot back, folding her arms over her chest with a pout.

She stopped in her tracks, turning around to face her cousin. The remark didn’t sting coming from her cousin. She heard it so often that the remark barely made a mark coming from anyone. “Was that meant to insult me?” Emma laughed, the sound high and bitter. “You’ll have to do better than that. I already know I’m a good-for-nothing.”

With that, she walked back out into the garden. Killian straightened up when he saw her, but didn’t dare approach. He went back to his work, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Emma picked flowers while she waited for Ava to stalk past them and follow her brothers. True to form, Ava flounced past them with her nose in the air.

“It’s an excellent bouquet you’ve picked, love,” was the first thing Killian said to her, after a few moments of heavy silence. 

“Yes, I think David will like them a lot,” Emma said, trying to keep her voice bright. “I just need to grab some water from the fountain.”

“Well, that works out for me. Your mother wishes me to water the rose bushes by the fountain. I’ll come with you.”

Emma and Killian walked side by side to the fountain, the only sound passing between them the rattling of the wheelbarrow at first. 

“You’re not a good-for-nothing,” he said quietly to her. “You have to know you’re…”

“I am, Killian,” Emma said quietly. “But you’re sweet for saying I’m not.” Her sigh was heavy. “Knowing me, somehow I’ll have picked the wrong flowers or the wrong vase too.”

“Well, let me water them for you,” Killian offered gallantly when they arrived at the fountain. “So that you can say you didn’t mess up the watering.” He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the vase.

“No, I’ve got it.” She tugged the vase closer to her.

“I insist, love.” He tugged it back to him.

“It’s watering a vase. I can do it.” A firmer tug and a firmer tone.

“Emma, it’s fine!” His handle broke off of the vase and fell into the fountain. His eyes met hers and he shrugged. “Oops.”

“Don’t ‘oops’ me, Killian Jones!” Emma demanded, running a hand over her face. “That was my father’s favorite vase. He’s going to kill me.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Killian replied. Emma took a step forward to yell at him. “Careful!” he shouted.   
  
Her feet had barely brushed the jagged edges of the vase and she stopped, frozen for a moment. Realizing that the handle was still in the water, she quickly stripped down to her chemise and dove in to fetch it. She winced when she felt the jagged edge of the broken piece cut into her hand, but she still held on when she came up for air.

“Emma, your hand! It’s cut!” Killian exclaimed. “Let me help.”   
  
“It’s fine,” Emma replied, fully aware that she was dripping with water and her chemise was essentially see through at this point.

“Let me help,” Killian insisted again, gingerly taking her hand in his own.

“So now you’re going to a gentleman?” she asked, trying to keep her breath from hitching at just how close they were standing to one another. 

“Goodness only knows what’s been living in that pond and if we have to cut off your hand, I’ll never hear the end of it,” Killian replied. “And I’m always a gentleman.” He took a bottle out of his pocket and gently began pouring it on Emma’s hand.   
  
“Ah!” she hissed. “What the hell is that?”   
  
“Rum,” Killian replied, closing the bottle and taking her hand back in his. “And a bloody waste of it too.”

“What? Are you drinking on the job?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“Hardly, but it makes for an exemplary disinfectant,” Killian replied. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and began wrapping it around her hand. Using his mouth to secure it, he very gingerly tied it in a knot to secure it in place. “There.”

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, the hairs on her arms standing up.

“Is that all your hand is worth to you?” he teased, pulling back. “Perhaps some gratitude is in order.” He tapped his lips playfully, and Emma rolled her eyes.

“That’s what the thank you was for,” Emma retorted, her eyes shining with mirth. “Besides, it wouldn’t have happened if you had just let me fill the vase.” Killian quirked an eyebrow at her, and she smirked at him, knowing full well that he had blushed when pretty girls looked at him at Oxford. “Please. You couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” Killian taunted, popping the ‘t’ sound in ‘it’.

Emma stared at him for a moment before grabbing him by the suspenders and yanking him toward her. Her mouth slid against his and she desperately pressed into it for more. His arm hooked around her waist while his other hand went to her hair, trying to draw her in closer.   
  
She couldn’t help but moan as their lips slid together and he pushed back as if he could never get enough.   
  
When they broke for air, she was still clinging to his suspenders. They were sharing a breath, and though Emma couldn’t see Killian’s face--when had she closed her eyes?--he sounded as wrecked as he felt.  
  
Then, with a horrified spring of guilt, she realized that this was her best friend, and by kissing him, she could’ve compromised his future and his esteem in her father’s eyes.

“That was…” Killian started, the wonder still in his voice.  
  
“A one time thing,” Emma said frantically, pulling away from him. She gathered her things together and headed back into the house, leaving Killian there alone. 

It broke her heart to leave him there, but she couldn’t put his future in danger. 

The kiss made her realize that he meant too much to her for that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so we earned our E rating a little bit quicker than I intended...fun, steamy times ahead for everyone! Also I've never written smut before so...yeah. I've been reliably informed that this is good but that still doesn't change the fact that I've never done it before and am waaayyyyyy out of my comfort zone on this one.
> 
> We also have art now by the amazingly talented Mariakov81, who gave met his as a Captain Swan Secret Santa gift. Special to kmomof4 and jarienn972 for beta-ing the chapter!! 
> 
> Here we go! Enjoy!

Killian stared after her, breaths jagged as he stood helplessly. He hadn’t dared hope before this moment that perhaps she’d return some of his feelings, but the ferocity with which she kissed him made him begin to hope more than he’d ever hoped before.

Lesser men, he was sure, would be put off by her declaration that it was a “one time thing”.

But he was not a lesser man.

He had felt the strength of her grip when she pulled him in. Her sopping wet chemise pressed to his body left little to the imagination of what her curves felt like. Her little breathy moan still rang in his ear. 

He realized that his clothes were wet now too, and he was going to have to change before someone saw him, lest they put his and Emma’s appearance together and thought ill of him. Quickly, he made his way down to his sleeping quarters so that he could change.   
  
Mercifully, he’d not run into anyone else that worked on staff, otherwise, he’d have to explain the tent in his trousers as well. He did not want to do that either. 

Getting to his room, he quickly divested himself of his shirt. He paused with his hand on his trousers before closing the door and locking it to make sure he would be undisturbed. Very slowly, he took off his pants before laying down again, his thumb idly playing with the head of his cock, slowly spreading the precum around.   
  
Emma’s moan once again rang through his ears and he closed his eyes, tilting his head backward as his strokes became firmer. He imagined her in his bed, her head thrown back to expose that delectable neck of hers, pleading his name as her hips rocked up fruitlessly to get any kind of friction. 

He would begin by kissing and nipping at her neck, encouraging soft sighs and whines from her perfect mouth. From there, he would kiss down her chest until his teeth gently scraped across her breast, allowing his fingers to trace her slit, gathering moisture so that he would not hurt her when he slid his finger inside.   
  
As his mouth would make his way downward, he would whisper praises and declarations of love into her skin, seal promises of devotion with his tongue and, above all, would make sure she knew how absolutely loved and cherished she was before he entered her.   
  
His hand tightened around him again and his hips canted up. A low groan tore itself from his throat as he imagined how perfect it would be, her little cries becoming louder, and more desperate, as they both rushed to completion. Her beautiful legs would hook around his waist as she would try to get him closer to her.    
  
He would but oblige her, of course, pulling her into his arms and pistoning his hips sharply into her. He imagined how soft her golden tresses would be against his skin when she buried her face against his neck, moaning, “Oh, Killian, please!”   
  
But before she would crest, her lips would come up to his, kisses him with all the fury and devotion as she had by the fountain before her release would take over and she’d break the kiss only to gasp his name one last time.   
  
It was the image of pure, unadulterated bliss on Emma’s face that drove him to his own release, the tiniest whisper of her name leaving his lips as he came all over his hand. But even as his cock wilted, he could still picture the rosy glow of her cheeks, and the gleam of want in her eyes.

And for a moment, he tried to will the image away, but his own imagination would not be thwarted. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself very gingerly laying Emma back down in the bed before hooking her legs over his shoulders and feasting upon her like a man starved. Her hand would pull just right at his hair as her hips would press against his face as she gasped for air.    
  
He admittedly did not have much stamina to jerk himself off again, as he had limited experiences with women, but that did not mean he could not exorcise his frustrations in another way. Spotting the typewriter at his desk, he stood up and strode toward it before a wave of embarrassment overcame him.    
  
Typing nude, he supposed, would be quite odd, and so he got dressed before sitting at his typewriter. The addition of clothes did not change the hum of want that seemed to crackle beneath his skin.    
  


Shifting, he began to write, 

> My dearest Emma,
> 
> You must know how I ache for you. There have been many nights where I have taken myself in hand thinking of nothing but you, and what you would sound like when you came. I imagined putting my lips on your lips, your neck, your breasts. Even these are not enough to sate me. In my dreams, I kiss your cunt...

Ripping the dirty letter off of the typewriter, he quickly stuffed it into an envelope and sealed it with red wax so that Liam would be less inclined to snoop through his things and read it. From there, he serenely began typing a letter apologizing for his poor form, reiterating how important she was to him, and begging for her forgiveness for what had transpired by the fountain. 

He was nearly finished writing when a fierce knocking on the door interrupted his train of thought. “Killian? What did you do?” Liam asked accusingly.

“What do you mean ‘what did I do?’” Killian asked frantically, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. Had Liam somehow figured out that he’d pleasured himself to the thought of Emma? Had Emma told the whole manor of what had transpired by the fountain?   
  
“You great bloody prat! You left your wheelbarrow out in the middle of the field by the fountain. What happened?”

“I, uh, fell into the fountain by accident,” Killian said, opening the door, thanking any god that would listen that he was clothed. 

“That’s what Emma said,” Liam said suspiciously, arching his eyebrow.

“Aye,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear. “I accidentally knocked into Emma when she was by the fountain and she pulled me in to stop herself from falling.”

Liam stared at him for a moment before snorting, “Well it’s a good thing Leopold didn’t hear you say that or that Emma mentioned you knocking her in when she told David.” He ruffled Killian’s hair. “C’mon, younger brother. We’ve got work to do.”

“Aye, I’ll be there in a minute,” Killian said, playfully pushing Liam’s hand off of his head. “I, umm, I’m just finishing an apology letter to Emma.” He rolled his head to the side, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. 

“An apology letter?” Liam asked, flabbergasted. “What a strange friendship the two of you have. Well, if you’re going to write her a letter and give it to her secretly, you’re going to have to do it before dinner, so you better hurry up.”

“Aye, I will,” Killian said earnestly, moving the sealed envelope toward the edge of the desk.

“What was that?” Liam asked curiously.

Killian thought he was going to crawl out of his skin with all the questions Liam was asking. “Just a draft,” he said evasively. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done.” 

“All right,” Liam replied, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. “I’ll see you out there.” He left the room for a moment.   
  
Killian finished the letter and put it in another envelope, sealing it tightly this time with green wax so he would know the difference between the two letters.    
  
Liam pounded on the door. “C’mon, Charles Dickens! You’re not being paid by the word!” his brother shouted.    
  
“Coming!” Killian called, blindly reaching for the nearest envelope and putting it in his pocket. 

\--

Emma did not look back at Killian when she sprinted away from the fountain, tears gathering in her eyes. She had to get away from him as quickly as she could manage but didn’t want anyone to see her.    
  
The honk of the car up the lane had her cursing under her breath and she sprinted upstairs to at least put on a fresh dress. Alone in her room, her shoulders quaked with the tiniest of cries and she let a few tears run down her cheeks.

She drew her knees up to her chest, burying her face in them so not to draw attention to anyone who might be lurking about like her father or her cousin. She’d become an expert at muffing the sound of her cries over the years.

For the last thirteen years of her life, Killian had been the one to comfort her or brush away her tears, but now she could not go to him. She was fairly sure that Killian hated her and would want nothing more to do with her after what she had done.

Oh, she had wanted to kiss Killian for so long, but doing so would’ve risked both his position at the estate and his brother’s as well. And she’d risked his stable income because she had wanted.

Killian was the most selfless person she knew and it convinced her that he would hate her for her selfishness.    
  
She was tempted to wallow in her sorrow for a little while longer, but she could hear her brother calling for her. And if she hid for too long, someone would surely come find her in such a state of disarray, which would somehow be worse than anything else she could endure today.    
  
Quickly, Emma changed into another summer dress and bounded downstairs, all but throwing herself into David’s arms.

“Why, Emma! There’s the Oxford graduate!” her eldest brother cried, spinning her around. “Liam was just telling us how you and Killian only got home just last night. Where is he anyway? I thought you two were attached at the hip.”

“I’ll go find him and make him say his hellos,” Liam replied, dipping his head to the party out of respect before heading toward the servant’s quarters. 

David took her in with the proudest of grins before he noticed what was too hard to hide. “Surely, you haven’t already gone swimming without us! Your hair is practically dripping!” he teased. He tapped her nose playfully after he set her down. 

Emma’s cheeks turned bright red at the memory by the fountain, but hopefully all present would’ve written it off as embarrassment at the childish action rather than any sort of knowledge. Once again, thankfully, Ava was nowhere to be found. “I fell in the fountain getting water for the flowers,” she said shyly. 

“How could you possibly have fallen in?” David’s friend asked snidely. Emma did not like the look of him, and she was already angry and annoyed with herself. It’d be perfectly easy to take it out on this stranger who was picking a fight.

“Emma, this is Walsh. Walsh, this is my younger sister, Emma,” David replied, his voice getting a little cold and Emma resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Walsh. David was fiercely protective of both her and Henry, though he kept it mostly underneath his jovial demeanor. That protective nature had, when the occasion called for it, covered the entire staff at the manor which made David well beloved in the household. 

One time, a young woman had been accused of stealing from a local businessman, and David refused to hear any sort of slander against her, insisting that he would look into the matter himself. It then came about later that the woman had rejected the businessman’s advances time and time again, and this was some sort of half-cooked revenge plot.

From that day forward, David had escorted the woman into town whenever she went on business, until she had gotten married. The woman, Ashley, had even asked David to walk her down the aisle. 

It had been David who taught Emma everything she knew about being both fierce and loving. For a moment, she was tempted to ask her brother in confidence what he thought about Killian and just tell her brother how she was feeling. But the arrival of their father in the doorway made Emma’s heart sink.

She never had her father’s good favor, and she was sure she’d lost Killian’s as well; she could not bear it if she’d lost David’s esteem too. 

“Father, come with us for a swim!” David called cheerfully, waving at their father. 

“I have some business to attend to before dinner,” Leopold said, walking down to the guests. His gaze became cold when he looked at Emma, and he opened his mouth to reprimand her before remembering that they had guests. “I just came to say hello.” He extended his hand to Walsh’s and shook it firmly. “Mr. Ozmund.”

“Pleasure,” Walsh lied through his teeth in a sickeningly sweet voice that made Emma want to roll her eyes. 

“Graham Hubert, sir,” Graham said with a quick handshake. “I can’t thank you enough for inviting us into your home.”

Leopold made a noncommittal noise before taking Mary Margaret’s hand and kissing it. “Miss Blanchard. Enchanting to see you, as always. I look forward to soon calling you my daughter.”

“Yes, yes!” Mary Margaret said brightly. “David was just telling me how much planning you and your wife have put into the wedding. And really, you musn’t go through all the trouble.”

“Oh, truly, it’s no trouble at all,” Leopold said warmly. “Though if you could spare a few moments before you go swimming? My wife has some designs for wedding invitations that she insists you take a look at.” To the three of them, he said, “There’s brandy and cigars in the study, gentlemen. Please help yourselves.”   
  
Walsh eagerly headed into the house with David and Graham following him, goodnaturedly teasing each other. Leopold gave Emma one last, cold look before heading to the car. 

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said brightly, gently taking Emma’s hand. “I did want your input on bridesmaid’s dresses. You will be my maid of honor, won’t you?” 

“Of course,” Emma replied breathlessly and winced a little when Mary squeezed a tad too tightly.

“Emma! You’re hurt!” Mary Margaret cried worriedly, lifting up Emma’s bandaged hand to inspect it. “What happened?” 

“I cut my hand when I fell in,” Emma said faintly. 

“Well, who bandaged it?” Mary Margaret asked curiously. 

“Killian was by the fountain, he helped me bandage it,” Emma admitted, trying not to think of how gentle, but firm, his hands had been when they held hers.

Mary Maragret’s eyes flooded with understanding, and so she took Emma’s uninjured hand in her own and squeezed it gently. “Well, I think it would be wise if you changed your bandage before you saw your mother. After all, Killian will need his handkerchief back, won’t he?” 

Her heart began to pound in her chest. This woman had only been in the manor for a minute, and suddenly she had more power than anyone to ruin Killian’s future. Her father was more likely to dismiss Ava, but Mary Margaret? It was clear her father adored his future daughter-in-law. “He didn’t...he was just trying to help me,” Emma insisted softly. “Please don’t tell my Father.”

“Tell your father what?” Mary Margaret asked with a conspiratorial wink, and Emma felt her whole body unwind with the exhale. Perhaps not only would David gain a new partner in his marriage, but perhaps she would gain one as well. “I’ll see you in a bit, Emma.”

“Of course, Mary Margaret,” Emma replied softly. She smiled and gave her new friend a wave before racing upstairs again, her heart pounding against her chest. 

Alone in her bedroom, she let her hand brush against Killian’s handkerchief. A jolt of want passed through her and she let out a soft moan at the memory of his mouth on her hand, his lips against hers. For a moment, she wondered how his mouth would feel against her thighs, and her cheeks pinkened at the prospect. She quickly looked around to make sure no one was nearby and then quickly locked the door. 

She stood in her room for a moment, absolutely lost with what to do next. Her skin felt like it was buzzing and while she’d been with men before, it certainly had never felt like this. 

And then she imagined Killian’s voice in her ear, husky and full of promise, telling her to show him her perfect body.

Slowly, she stripped in front of her mirror, imagining it was Killian’s hand slowly but surely, divesting her of her clothes. 

“Good girl,” he would murmur in her ear. Her hand skimmed across her breasts the way she imagined his hand would. “My perfect girl.”

“Killian,” she keened out loud, and then felt a pulse of shame stab through her. He wasn’t even here and she was already pleading for him. It made her feel ashamed and dirty for a moment and she rushed to grab her clothes, when the handkerchief brushed against the bare skin of her stomach. 

She gasped softly, the memory of his lips insistent against her own and her desire flared back to life. If he didn’t want her, he wouldn’t have kissed her that way by the fountain. She took a few deep breaths, getting herself back into the mindset of her fantasy.

She made her way over to the bed, admittedly canting her hips for some friction, desperate for some kind of relief. But she knew that if they were ever to join so carnally, Killian would take his time with her.    
  
Her hand played with her nipples again as she imagined his mouth working against them, her breath coming out in desperate, soft gasps. She felt her cunt clench for something that wasn’t there, and she whined, almost giving in.

“Patience, love,” she imagined him teasing, bringing his mouth to her thigh and kissing there. “Show me how patient you are. There’s a lass...there’s  _ my _ lass.” Her hand trailed softly down her stomach, brushing her fingertips against all the spots she envisioned him kissing.   
  
A praise or declaration of love was made after each kiss in her mind, each one making her want even more. Every kiss was a claim that he was hers and she was his. She longed to hear such words from him, even if it was only in her mind. 

At last, she began to rub against her entrance. She did not slide her fingers in just yet, but she shamelessly rubbed against them, quietly whining his name. “Killian...Killian...oh, please…”

Ripples of pleasure coursed through her as she imagined his fingers instead of her own, and the filthy things his husky voice would whisper in her ear. When she could stand it no longer, she slipped two fingers inside with a gasp. 

She paused for a moment, eyes fluttering shut and her mouth fluttering open in another soft moan. 

_ “Shhh, love, shhh, I have you. I’m here, love. I won’t let anything harm you. If it hurts, we can stop.” _

Tears built behind her shut eyelids and she let out a bitter laugh, for even in her fantasies, Killian was devoted to her needs and safety above all else, showing her the love that she truly felt she had from no one else. 

She steadied her breathing and imagined Killian’s lips pressing soft and reverent kisses, his scruff tickling her skin. When she was ready to continue, she pumped her fingers slowly until she found a spot that had her crying out a little louder than she intended. 

Her fingers picked up speed as her hips thrust up. She bit her lip to quiet the moans and whimpers of his name, the pleas, the nonsensical sounds that all signaled her impending release. With a gasp, she clenched hard around her fingers covering them with her juices.   
  
Slowly, she withdrew her fingers and wiped the mess on the bed sheets, knowing that no one would see. For a moment, she clung to the notion of her wildest dreams, where Killian was still beside her, tending to her and whispering to her lovingly.

She got dressed and returned downstairs to join her family once more.

\--

Killian had thrown himself back into the work he’d needed to do around the manor, though part of his eagerness for completing his tasks were to try and span out across the grounds as far as he could so that he had the chance of possibly running into Emma. 

When fixing a fence post by the garden, he found Henry sulking underneath the shade of one of the trees. The young lad’s knees were up to his chest and he didn’t need to be close to know that Henry was scowling. 

“Henry!” he called cheerfully, waving the boy over. “Come help me fix the fence post, will you, lad?”

Henry’s head came up in surprise and Killian was troubled by the brooding and pensive look that covered his face. Slowly, the boy dragged his heels along as he came to the fence, his head cast down.    
  
“What happened to rehearsals?” Killian asked gently, using his hand to instruct Henry to hold a nail in place.

“They didn’t want to do it,” Henry said quietly, all the sadness in the world coloring his words.

“Well, if you’d like, I’m sure your brother wouldn’t mind if you just read it yourself,” Killian encouraged, gently hammering the nail in. He was careful to mind Henry’s fingers and wanted to make sure the boy wasn’t hurt. “I spoke to Emma before, and she’s very excited to hear your story.”

Henry’s eyes lit up with something like relief, though Killian wasn’t exactly sure what the boy had to be relieved about. Perhaps he was glad that Emma still had faith in his authorial prowess. “Were you and Emma fighting before?” the boy asked curiously. “I heard shouting from my window but I was so busy trying to get Jack and Nicholas to read the story that I couldn’t see what was going on.”

There was a hint of a shadow behind Henry’s eyes at the statement, though Killian couldn’t quite figure out why. Surely, if he had seen them kiss he would’ve said something to Killian or perhaps teased him about it. Other than that, there was no reason for the boy to look so troubled or suspicious. 

“Ah, yes, I made quite the fool of myself earlier with your sister and invoked her famous temper,” Killian laughed, trying to bring some levity back into the moment. “You haven’t seen her, have you? I have an apology letter for her but I can’t seem to find her to give it to her.”

The weight seemed to disappear behind Henry’s eyes almost immediately at the notion of an apology, but it didn’t stop a stone from settling in Killian’s stomach. Perhaps the boy had seen the kiss, and had finally been won over by the machinations of their society with all its notions of who was worthy of whom, and who was “suitable” enough for whom.    
  
It devastated him to think that Henry, someone who Killian cared for deeply and unendingly, could think that he wasn’t good enough for Emma. 

“She was joining David by the lake! I wasn’t going to go over there because my cousins are bothering David, but I don’t mind bringing that letter to Emma for you!” Henry said eagerly. “If you’ve fought, you need to make up!”

“Aye?” Killian asked, forcing himself to keep his tone polite and even. “Why is that?”

“Because whenever you fight, Emma is devastated,” Henry said quietly, the happiness fading from his eyes. With a sobriety that surpassed his thirteen years, the boy added, “I don’t think you know how important you are to her, Killian. How much you mean to her and how lost she would be without you. She would do  _ anything _ for you, Killian.”

The boy rocked back and forth on his heels, looking nervous for a moment. “I know she doesn’t care what Father or anyone else thinks about you. You’re her best friend and if you two have fought you have to make up. I can’t bear to see her sad, Killian.”

Killian’s heart both broke for the boy in front of him and yearned for him to go find Emma so that he could pull her into his arms and reassure her just how much he cared for her. “Well, hopefully you can speed that along by delivering this, okay?”    
  
He handed the boy the sealed envelope and Henry took off like a shot.

It was only when Henry turned around at the edge of the field and waved the envelope triumphantly above his head that Killian noticed that the wax seal was red, not green.

“Henry!” Killian called, desperate to switch out the letters, his cheeks already colored with shame of Emma reading his more salacious thoughts about her. “Henry, come back for a second!”   
  
But Henry was already too far gone to hear him. 


End file.
